


lost in the sweet light of dawn

by sabaccshots



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Forbidden Love, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Knight!jango, Political Alliances, Princess!Reader, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, more tags to come, no actual assault though, pride and prejudice hand flex incoming, reader doesnt wanna marry dooku, smut in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26433358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabaccshots/pseuds/sabaccshots
Summary: (a medieval royalty au.)reader is a princess in her home kingdom who is wedded off to the cruel count dooku, who wants nothing to do with her, only the power her royal family can give him. he assigns a knight to her, one of his royal guards, jango fett, and though she is miserable in her new home, this strong knight becomes a single ray of light. slowly, they begin to need one another more than they know.
Relationships: Dooku (Star Wars)/Reader, Dooku | Darth Tyranus/Original Female Character(s), Jango Fett/Original Female Character(s), Jango Fett/Reader, Jango Fett/You
Comments: 31
Kudos: 127





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a medieval knight/princess au!!! gotta love it!!
> 
> enjoy!

“Oh, _please_ ,” the Count scoffed, looking down his nose at the tears that were threatening to spill down your cheeks. “I’m in no mood to deal with you in such a state.”

You looked up at him defiantly, choking back a sob when you snapped at him.

“ _I’m_ in no mood to have my future stolen from me by the likes of _you_. I am no bartering chip.”

He rolled his eyes, infuriating you further.

“It seems, _my sweet_ ,” he mocked, voice dripping with disdain, “that you are.”

You clenched your teeth, feeling a scream creep up the back of your throat.

“Do you expect me to sit quietly and accept being ripped away from my home?” You snapped.

“ _No_ ,” the Count thundered, making you stumble back a step. “I expect you to be thankful you weren’t pawned off to someone more cruel. You’re lucky your father married you off to me and not someone who enjoys preying on young things like you.”

Fear suddenly made your blood run cold, forcing you to freeze in place. You felt like an animal being cornered by a hunter.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he spat. “Believe me when I say I want _nothing_ to do with you.”

Relief crept through your chest minutely, although his cold tone made you feel no more safe, it did keep you from being paralyzed with fear.

“You will have your own bedchamber, and you will stay out of my way. Otherwise, I couldn’t care less what you do here. But you will not bore me with your pathetic bout of self-pity. We are wedded on paper alone, and I am your _Lord_ , not your _husband_.”

It seemed painful, sickening for him to even say the word.

“Now if you wish to sob and lament your oh-so-terrible fate, _princess_ ,” the Count sneered, “you may do so alone.”

You looked up at him incredulously as he turned on his heel, sparing you not even a glance as he stormed out of the castle’s parlor, his long, black cape flicking across your vision, a wave of darkness rushing over you.

It was as if the air had been punched from your lungs.

You were alone here, entirely alone. Ripped from your family, sold off to the highest political bidder, you felt like livestock bred for slaughter.

There was no persuading your father, no amount of begging that could’ve kept this political alliance from happening.

 _Count Dooku’s kingdom is vast,_ he’d said. _His armies aligned with our own would serve us well. This is for our people_.

It was a guilt trip, one that had worked, unfortunately, but even if it hadn’t, you knew you’d still be here, crumbling to your knees in despair of the new life you’d been condemned to.

***

The first night in your chambers was solemn, but not completely unwelcome. You praised your lucky stars that the count had shouldered you away in the furthest corner of the castle from his own chambers, clearly not kidding when he said he wanted nothing to do with you.

All you could do was be thankful you weren’t forced to bed him as you’d feared.

He had, however, made it _abundantly_ clear that you did not suit his tastes, tossing you to the side in favor of other pursuits.

That was just fine by you, you thought bitterly. You’d much prefer keeping your distance.

Dooku’s only desires revolved around expanding his kingdom, strengthening his armies, and being feared by the people he conquered.

A miserable existence, you imagined, crawling under the thick quilt in your bedchamber. The heavy lambswool did little to cut the chill of the room, the loneliness of it. You laid in the darkness, trembling and alone, willing yourself to sleep as despair made itself known.

***

The next morning, you’d half-convinced yourself the journey had been nothing more than a horrid dream, an anxious fantasy that had pulled you from your home, but by the time the weak rays of morning sun began to warm your skin, it was painfully apparent that you weren’t dreaming.

You buried your face back into the pillows, wishing you could sleep the rest of your days here away.

Then again, you thought, perhaps no one would even notice if you did.

You were just about to drift back off to sleep when a sharp knock at your chamber doors startled you awake.

“My lady,” a deep voice rasped through the wood. “Forgive the intrusion. Count Dooku requests your presence at breakfast.”

You scoffed in disbelief. After the man had only just told you to stay out of his way?

“You can tell the Count that the mere thought of seeing his face has already ruined my appetite,” you snapped.

You could feel the man outside the door shifting uncomfortably, knowing your response hadn’t been what he expected. You sighed, opening your mouth to correct yourself when you heard his voice again.

“Would you like that repeated verbatim?” He asked coyly. “Because I do enjoy having my head attached to my body, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

You hadn’t expected him to crack a _joke_ of all things; you hadn’t expected _anyone_ here to have a sense of humor.

An incredulous laugh escaped you, the surprise making you a bit giddy. The prospect of witty banter with anyone at all was a bright spot in this painfully dull place.

You reached for your robe, throwing it on and jerking open the door.

“It would surely be _my_ head he’d have before…”

The moment you tugged the door open, you were met with what looked like a wall of steel. Your eyes were level with the top of his chestplate, your reflection gleaming back at you in the pristine armor. Your gaze traveled upward, blinking up in surprise at the helmet on his shoulders.

He was huge, intimidating; his biceps bulged behind the straps of leather that buckled his armor in place. One hand stayed positioned near the sword at his hip, and you thought briefly he must be some kind of royal guard, a knight of the castle.

His deep, rich voice rumbled again, snapping you back to the moment.

“My lady,” he greeted with a hint of mirth in his tone. Clearly, he was amused at the way you’d become so distracted by him. Roguish of him, you thought, it sounded almost teasing.

You swallowed thickly, trying to compose yourself once more as you looked up at him.

He kept his chin high, and though you couldn’t quite see through the helmet, you could tell he was keeping strong eye contact with you, and something about the intensity of it made you shiver.

You clutched the top of your robe, tugging it closed around your chemise. He straightened a bit at that, and you began to wonder just how closely he was looking at you.

“I don’t believe I caught your name, Sir…?”

“Jango, madam. Jango Fett.”

You smirked up at him, cocking your head.

“Sir Jango Fett,” you repeated.

A respectful nod of his head as you familiarized his name in your mouth.

“And did the Count send you here as a babysitter for me?” You teased.

You’d half-expected him to chuckle, but he didn’t.

“No, my lady. Only an escort.”

“An escort? He believes I’m dim enough to lose my way from my chambers to the dining hall?”

 _That_ one earned you a light laugh.

“I don’t know about dim,” he countered. “But perhaps he believes you’ll try to sneak off somewhere if you’re left alone too long.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“And he’s assigned you to be sure I don’t?”

You wished you could see the smirk behind the helmet.

“I believe so.”

You grinned up at him, stepping back from the doorway.

“Well then, Sir Fett, I believe that qualifies as _babysitting_. Not such a noble task from the Count now, is it?”

The sarcastic smile on your lips didn’t fade until well after you’d closed the door on him.

“Just wait there while I dress, _O noble escort_ ,” you taunted. “And then I’ll let you guide me down the treacherous hallway.”

Your exaggerated mockery earned a humorous scoff from outside.

“I’ll be eagerly counting the moments,” he joked flatly.

“As I said,” you grinned, lacing the bodice of your dress before opening up your chamber door again. “It’ll be my head before yours.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you may have overstepped your boundaries with jango... just maybe.

“How thrilling that you were able to join us,” the Count said flatly, barely bothering to look up at you as you entered the room. He made no move to stand to greet you, an open show of his distaste and lack of respect.

You clenched your jaw as you walked over to your seat, and you tried not to stiffen when you felt Jango’s arms behind you, gently pulling out your chair. You nodded your thanks to him, trying not to focus on the way his body dwarfed yours when you sat down.

“I see you’ve been acquainted with my royal guard,” he said, eyes flickering over to Jango.

“I have,” you said curtly, reaching for the steaming teacup in front of you. You blamed the warmth in your cheeks on the heat that emanated from it.

“Sir Fett will be escorting you through the premises from now on,” he said simply.

Your eyebrows raised.

“Everywhere I go?” You scoffed. 

The Count looked at you pointedly, but said nothing.

You looked over at Jango, who was still standing at your side.

“I’m so sorry you couldn’t have been given a more useful task. It seems I really have been assigned a babysitter.”

“With your pathetic little meltdown in the parlor yesterday, it seemed you were in need of one,” the Count snapped, cutting you off sharply, a dark grin appearing on his face at your embarrassment.

“Your childish behavior since you’ve arrived here leads me to believe I can’t trust you to be left alone,” he continued, “and I have _graciously_ allowed Sir Fett to be your personal guard.”

He looked Jango up and down before looking back at you.

“…or, _babysitter_ , as you so quaintly phrased it.”

You set your teacup down with a clatter.

“I am not a child, and I do not need to be looked after. This is now my home, and–”

“ _My_ home,” he snapped viciously, rising from his seat. You felt Jango stiffen behind you. “I _allowed_ you to come here in exchange for your father’s troops. You will have no delusions of grandeur while you’re here. This is not _our_ kingdom, not _our_ castle. Everything here belongs to me. _You_ belong to me, like it or not, and you should be thrilled I haven’t locked you away for your insolence.”

His harsh words almost echoed through the room, paralyzing you with fear as he slammed his fist down on the table.

The Count’s darkened eyes locked on Jango’s face, rage simmering behind them.

“She is your responsibility now,” he spat, kicking his chair away. “Keep her in line and keep her out of my way. I don’t wish to see her until we have to show face.”

The clicking of his boots on the hard stone floor seemed louder than ever as he left you sitting there, frightened and aghast at his rage. You tried to settle your breathing, angry tears stinging at the back of your eyes.

“My lady,” Jango whispered softly, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You jerked away from the touch, rising from your seat abruptly.

“If you’ll excuse me, sir,” you said tightly. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

You tried to keep your composure as best you could, not wanting to break down in front of him, but you felt the tears coming quickly, and you broke into a sprint back down the hall to your chambers.

The door slammed behind you as you sunk down on the floor, ignoring the slow rapping on the other side.

“My lady,” he said again, voice cautious. “Are you alright?”

Tears streamed down your cheeks, dread creeping coldly into your chest at the thought of spending the rest of your days this way.

“ _No,_ ” you shouted, humiliated at the pain that streaked your voice. “How could I be alright?”

You sounded harsh, even to your own ears, but it was better than having anyone hear your sobs.

There was a long silence that followed.

You buried your head in your hands, crying weakly now and wishing you could disappear into the floor. You allowed yourself to crumble, fear and dread mingling with exhaustion as you wept, and just as you considered lying down right where you were, you heard his familiar voice again.

“I’ll… be out here,” he said quietly, “if you should need me.”

You blinked in surprise. You assumed he’d left, already tired of his chore of looking after you.

Instead, he sounded… sincere.

You hiccuped slightly, tears beginning to slow.

“Th-Thank you,” you mumbled weakly, slumping forward and pressing your face against the door. You didn’t know what else to say.

But you didn’t have to say anything.

Neither did he.

***

Minutes turned to hours, and soon the sun was at its highest point in the sky, warming the cold stone floor you laid upon.

It was quiet, only a few birds chirping outside your window, and no further inquiries from the man outside your door. It was becoming painfully lonely, frighteningly quiet in your chambers, and it became enough that the racing of your mind was driving you insane.

You pulled yourself up from the ground, finding that wallowing wasn’t doing much to help your current state.

Perhaps a walk would clear your head, you thought. Anything to distract you from this.

You pulled open the chamber doors, and a soft gasp escaped you when you saw him standing there.

His back was to the door, just far enough to the side for his frame in your periphery to startle you.

He whipped around quickly to find you behind him, attempting to compose yourself.

“My lady,” he greeted softly in that rich voice of his. You never quite cared for the title, but for some reason, you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate the way he said it.

“Sir Fett,” you responded crisply, smoothing down the skirt of your dress. “Forgive me, I was… I just wanted to go for a walk.”

He nodded simply, and you quirked a brow up at him.

“Assuming I’m allowed to,” you joked.

“Of course you are,” he said. “Assuming you understand it’s my duty to accompany you.”

You sighed dramatically, and his shoulders flexed briefly when he huffed out a chuckle.

“Who would I be to separate a man from his duty?” You said, brushing past him in the doorway. “Even if that duty is vastly unnecessary.”

You felt it much easier to talk to him, to have a bit of banter. It felt nice to not have to censor your thoughts before you spoke them.

“Oh, I’m not sure it’s that unnecessary, princess,” he said, a joking haughtiness in his tone. “Would you try to run away if I weren’t there to stop you?”

His question gave you pause for a moment, and thinking on it, you couldn’t imagine it was too far off for him to believe there was a chance of that.

“Fine,” you acquiesced dramatically, looking down the hallway. “But _I_ get to lead the way.”

He sighed, extending his arm for you to take.

“Wherever you wish to go, my lady.”

***

The castle grounds were lush as any you’d ever seen: rolling hills, gardens brimming with roses, high stone walls with ivy climbing into the sky. It looked like the images fairy tales had conjured up in your mind as a child, a far cry from the dark corridors the Count had banished you to.

It felt nice to wander a bit through the cobblestone-paved paths of the garden, to feel the wind on your face. You finally felt like you could catch your breath.

Jango kept pace one step behind you as you walked, ever vigilant as you strolled through the estate.

“I don’t know how you ever manage to bring yourself inside the castle,” you remarked, looking over your shoulder at him. “Not when you have all this at your disposal.”

He chuckled lightly.

“I’d hardly say it’s at my disposal,” he said, strolling casually with his hands on his sword belt.

“Oh? The Count doesn’t allow you outside alone either?” You teased, leaning down to pluck a stray daisy that had grown too far outside its home.

You couldn’t see his eyes, but you could tell he was rolling them.

“I do have much to tend to during the day, my lady. And as much as I wish I could spend my afternoons picking flowers,” he said, amusement tinging his voice. “I must keep myself available for whatever duties the Count asks of me.”

A harsh laugh bubbled out of you, shaking your head as you turned toward him.

“Forgive me for attempting to keep that man far from the front of my mind. I assumed your indefinite chore of watching over me took up the majority of your time.”

“Almost,” he teased, voice rumbling out a bit lower than before. “But not quite.”

You smiled softly, rolling the stem of the daisy between your fingertips.

“Well,” you said, shifting up onto your tiptoes. “Have a reminder of the least dreadful duty of your day.”

You bit back a smirk as you leaned up to him, tucking the small flower into a gap in his armor, just above his chest plate.

“There,” you said, straightening it so the petals fanned out against the gleaming silver.

For just a moment, you heard him exhale sharply, and you dropped back down to your feet, worried you’d crossed a line, that you’d angered him.

It was silent then, silent enough that you could hear your own heartbeat pick up.

Jango took one slow step back, and it was only then that you realized how close you’d been.

“If you’d like to continue your walk, my lady,” he said, voice gruff and tight. “Or I can escort you back to your chambers.”

 _Oh._ Your heart sunk. The one person in this castle you’d felt some level of comfort around, some sort of companionship.

The discomfort was palpable.

Your shoulders slumped, and you avoided looking up at his helmet.

“We can go back inside,” you said, sheepish.

He nodded curtly, extending his arm.

You didn’t take it this time. Instead, you straightened your shoulders, silently leading the way.

***

You wished you could see his face. Just that once, just to see if you’d really angered him, or if by some chance he wasn’t angry, what his standoffish retreat looked like in his eyes. Maybe you could’ve fixed it, doubled back and avoided crowding into his space the way you did.

You replayed the moment over and over in your mind, the way he stiffened when you got close to him, when you touched him. You could kick yourself, you were so embarrassed.

You sighed, resigning yourself to pushing the memory of today down and distracting yourself. It was a shame though, you thought, as the rest of the day was lovely, and it was a shame to try to forget it.

You decided a hot bath would be in your best interest, letting you escape from your nagging thoughts for a little while.

The castle was built on a series of hot springs, blessedly, and you were able to pump hot water into the tub. You could hate the castle and everyone in it, but you had to admit, you were grateful for the luxuries.

You stripped yourself of your skirts and corset, lying them down gently and fishing through the pockets for the herbs you’d picked in the garden that day. You’d noticed some sprigs of lavender growing, along with rosemary and mint, and you couldn’t help yourself. You tossed them into the bath, sighing as the scent began to put you at ease.

The groan that left you nearly echoed through the room as you sunk into the water. It was the most relaxed you’d felt since you arrived here.

Heady clouds of herbal steam swirled around you as you lolled your head back, resting it on the tub. You thought back to the warmth of the sun on your skin as you roamed the sprawling grounds earlier that day, how it felt to have some semblance of freedom in what you’d considered a prison. It was a moment where you hadn’t felt like you needed to watch your step, where you didn’t feel anxious to move the wrong way or encounter something dreadful.

Instead, you could go where you wished to, surround yourself with herbs and flowers and appreciate their beauty at your leisure.

You wished you’d taken more time with it.

You also wished you hadn’t made yourself look like a fool in front of the knight.

How stupid of you, you thought, mind wandering back to that pit of embarrassment. How could you not just leave well enough alone? Then, at least, maybe you’d have someone around right now instead of isolating yourself again.

Time passed slowly as you let yourself soak in the tub. You’d hardly noticed the sun beginning to set, dipping low into a dusky haze at the end of the day.

The water had begun to cool as well, and with it, your state of content. You sighed to yourself, pulling yourself out of the bathtub and toweling off.

Reaching for your robe, you tried to tug it over your arms, but you felt it get snagged. You pulled a bit harder, and, a bit too late, realized it was caught under a glass bottle of oils you’d set next to the bath.

Rapidly, it clattered to the floor, a sharp _crash_ echoing through the room.

“Oh, _no,_ ” you moaned to yourself, pulling your robe the rest of the way up your body just as you heard the slamming of the chamber door.

You froze in place, terrified, until his body came into view.

“My lady?” He shouted. “Are you alright? I heard…”

He stopped in his tracks when he saw you, when he _really_ saw you, slowly realizing what the situation had been.

“Sir Fett,” you said, voice a quiet little gasp. You could hear the relief in it. “I-I’m fine, just a bit of a clumsy spill.”

He cleared his throat, rising back to his strong, tall posture he always kept. His hands fidgeted with his sword belt, uncomfortably this time. His chin stayed high as he looked around the room, seemingly focusing his gaze anywhere but on you.

You quickly realized you were only in your _robe_ , barely having stepped out of the bath, and… oh.

_Oh._

He was _nervous_.

You tightened the robe around your shoulders, tugging it closed at your chest.

He looked away again, quickly.

“I’m… I’m so sorry to have startled you,” you stuttered, heat flooding your cheeks.

He held a hand up, shaking his head.

“That’s alright, my lady,” he said curtly. “I’d just… feared you’d been hurt.”

You huffed out a laugh, tinged with something like relief.

“Oh, no,” you assured him. “No, sir, I’m quite alright. Better now, if I’m honest, with the knowledge that you’re so quick to assist me.”

He picked up on the teasing lilt in your voice, the light attempt to begin joking with him once more.

“Well, as you’ve pointed out many times, princess, _babysitting_ takes up quite a fair amount of my time. I’m nothing if not attentive to my duties.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, and you could see his shoulders relax just a hair.

“I can’t make things too easy for you,” you smirked. “I do my best to keep you on your toes.”

You could hear the lightest of laughs through his helmet, and the anxious coil in the pit of your stomach seemed to unwind.

“That you do, princess,” he said, voice dipping low. “That you do.”

Something about the way he said it warmed you to your core, made you feel suddenly safe, suddenly _content_ to be where you were.

There was a gentle silence that overtook the both of you, just long enough to make you remember where you were.

You cleared your throat quietly, a shy smile on your face when you looked up at him again.

“Sir Fett?” You whispered. “Would you… If you can, would you eat with me tonight?”

You sounded sheepish, even to your own ears, but you pushed through it.

“I just… I’d appreciate the company. It gets a bit tiresome eating alone.”

He didn’t even hesitate when he spoke again.

“It’d be my pleasure, my lady.”


	3. Chapter 3

His presence was a calming one. It gave you a feeling of easiness you hadn’t experienced much of since you’d been brought to the castle.

It was evident in the way tension bled from your shoulders, by the way you didn’t feel the deep desire to run.

It was something you could get used to.

Jango arranged for your dinner to be brought to your chambers, and when the servant boy in the hall asked about Jango’s own meal, you heard him begin to decline, to say that he would have his later.

“Nonsense,” you cut in, coming up behind him in the doorway. “You’ve promised to dine _with_ me. You wouldn’t have me eating alone, would you?”

You could feel the sarcastic smirk radiating from beneath his helmet.

“Of course not, my lady,” he conceded. He turned back to the servant boy. “Fetch mine along with hers.”

“Yes, sir,” you heard him say before Jango closed the door.

“You do drive a hard bargain, princess,” Jango teased lightly, making you smile despite yourself.

You allowed yourself to sit in comfortable silence, to just enjoy the company after your fear that you’d alienated him before.

You allowed yourself to look at him again, really look at him, as he settled into a chair beside your chamber door. He was so broad, thick shoulders and strong arms covered by shining layers of metal. His chest was so muscular that you could see the front plate of his armor bulging with the mass of it.

His legs were splayed out in the chair, thighs just as broad and strong as the rest of him. His entire body was layered in thick muscle, the kind of strength that comes from years of being a warrior, a knight, a skilled fighter.

You shivered to think what he was capable of with that strength.

You were getting lost in thought now, nearly forgetting where you were until a startling knock came at the door.

“Your dinner, my lady,” a voice called, and Jango let the servant inside, bringing hot trays of meals to the parlor table for the both of you.

You thanked him softly, and the boy excused himself with a bow.

You hadn’t realized just how hungry you were until you smelled the warmth and spice of the dish in front of you when you began to walk over to the table.

Jango moved behind you, cutting the distance in a couple of steps and pulling out your chair, just as he had done this morning.

A simple gesture, a part of his job no less, but it still struck you every time. You noted the remarkable size difference between the two of you as you sat, feeling completely dwarfed by his body as he stood above you.

He pushed the chair into the table gently, accidentally brushing against your shoulder as he did so. You didn’t even know if he could feel it through his thick gloves, but _you_ certainly felt the way the soft brush of leather burned against the patch of bare skin that your dress left by your shoulder.

It was quick, barely a ghost of a touch, but the goosebumps it left in its wake roared through you, forcing you to bite back a gasp.

You swallowed it down as you watched him circle back to his own seat, wrenching your eyes away from his body. Your gaze had already lingered too long.

You fiddled with the silverware in front of you, busying yourself as he sat.

He was waiting for you, you realized, not touching his food until you did.

For a split second, you were hit with the realization that he’d have to take his helmet off, that you’d finally be able to see his face, that--

That his helmet was hinged at the jaw, and he unlatched the lower half to draw it down, leaving only his mouth free.

You found yourself swallowing down a wave of disappointment, not realizing how much you’d wanted to really see him until the opportunity was taken from you.

You shook yourself a bit, ducking your head down to hide your sudden rush of embarrassment. Fumbling for your silverware, you silently began to eat.

“Is everything alright?” He said quietly, taking a bite of his bread. You could see a sliver of his jaw, darkened with stubble, and the fullness of his lips, plush and pink. Suddenly, you felt parched.

“Yes,” you croaked out, reaching to take a sip of your water. “Yes, of course.”

There was a beat of silence between the two of you, and for the first time, you could see the barest bit of his smirk.

“You can ask, princess.”

You blinked up at him.

“What?”

His voice was low, soft. Gentle. “My helmet,” he said simply. “I know you must wonder about it.”

That shameful embarrassment crept up within you once more.

“I… I apologize, I hadn’t meant to stare, I…” You stuttered over your words, avoiding his eyes.

His smirk was back again, bigger this time, and you could see a dangerous hint of teeth across his lower lip.

“My lady,” he said, voice lilted. “There is nothing to apologize for. I realize the custom is… unusual here. I hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable.”

You stared at him for a moment.

“Uncomfortable? No, that’s… not at all, sir.” You could feel the heat in your cheeks begin to rise, but his smile never left his lips, and you swallowed down your shakiness. “I… I had wondered why you never remove it. I didn’t want to pry…”

“Not at all,” he said, taking a sip from his drink. You couldn’t help but fixate on the way he licked his lips. “When I was very young, I lost my parents in the midst of the war in my home kingdom of Mandalore. I was lost, with nowhere to go, and a band of knights found me, took me in, trained me as one of their own to become a warrior.”

He paused for a moment, and you could see him working his jaw, searching for his next words.

“Their way was to keep their faces hidden from those around them, to be knights of anonymity. It was their symbol, to earn their own forged armor and treat it like a second skin, to cover yourself from those you fought for.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes trained on him. He tensed a bit under the weight of your attention.

“And though I’m no longer in the kingdom, I… suppose it’s one part of my home that I never left behind.”

You nodded slowly, allowing his words to sink in. The confession was deeper than anything you’d expected, and you felt overwhelmed with gratitude that this stoic knight had shared it with you.

“And… through these knights,” you began. “Is that how you found your way to Count Dooku?”

He hesitated for a moment.

“In a way,” he said, looking down to pull apart another piece of bread.

“Do you dislike it?” You asked. “Being under the command of someone so…”

You searched for the right word, not wanting to call the Count what you were really thinking.

But another slow grin appeared on Jango’s face as he popped the bite of bread into his mouth.

“Someone so much like the Count?” He smirked.

You nodded sheepishly, making him chuckle. You found you quite liked seeing what laughter looked like on his lips.

“I don’t dislike pledging my fealty to a kingdom,” he said carefully, and you could tell he was censoring himself. There was a brief silence then, and you could tell Jango was looking into your eyes. You couldn’t see it, but the air around you suddenly became charged with something you couldn’t put your finger on, some sort of tension as you kept your eyes up on his helmet.

When he spoke again, his voice was lower, huskier, and it made you shiver.

“And my current position here is not without its perks.”

Your heart leapt up into your throat. You could feel his eyes on you, _really_ looking at you, and you had to stop yourself from letting out a shaky gasp.

“Well, you are rather suave, aren’t you, sir?” You asked, trying to cover up the quickness of your heartbeat with playfulness.

He shot you that grin again, the one that you felt down in your stomach, and held out a hand in surrender.

“All a part of my duty, my lady.”


	4. Chapter 4

You took your time finishing your dinner, eating slower than usual, and you told yourself that it was for any other reason than basking in his company. Truthfully, you could hardly take your eyes off him, the little that you could see. You spotted the faintest hint of stubble dusting his jaw when he lifted the front of the helmet to have his bread, and through the darkened shadows on his face, you could make out the shape of his plush lower lip.

Immediately, you looked away, a nagging feeling in your chest telling you it was invasive; you’d already seen too much.

So instead, you found yourself focusing on his hands. Hands that were big, strong, battle-toughened, work-worn. The hands that gripped the hilt of a sword, the ones that dealt devastating blows that left scars along his knuckles as memories were now just inches from yours,  _ just _ close enough that you could reach out if you wanted...

For now, you simply watched, a bit entranced, as his fingers encircled his glass, dwarfing it in his grip. You could distantly hear the richness of his voice; the sweet, low words he was murmuring across the table, but your eyes lingered on how delicately he held the fragile crystal. Though the strength he held was devastating in battle, you were sure, the gentleness with which he treated things in your presence struck a chord with you.

You were struck by him.

Tearing your eyes away from his hands, you became aware of the sudden silence that had overtaken the room.

“...my lady?”

You blinked up at him, refocusing your dazed eyes on the gap in his helmet.

“I’m sorry, sir?” You asked, willing some focus back into yourself.

“I said it’s getting quite late,” he said. “I hadn’t realized the sun had set.”

“Oh,” you said, casting a glance toward the window. You’d hardly noticed anything but  _ him _ since he arrived, and your stomach dropped at the thought of him having to leave. “So it has.”

Another silence fell over the two of you, heavier this time.

“If… you don’t have to… that-- that is…” You trailed off, swallowing thickly as you tried to collect yourself. “Must you go, Sir Fett?”

Again, you could hear the soft tone of laughter in his voice.

“Well, my main job is in fact to watch over you, my lady. I’d only meant to excuse myself if you’d wished to retire for the evening. In any case, I shall only be standing guard just outside your door.”

“Oh,” you said, a bit too excitedly. You busied yourself looking down at your glass, hiding your eyes from him. “Then… I’d like you to stay. If you haven’t tired of my company, that is.”

He chuckled audibly this time, settling back in his chair.

“I could never dream of it,” he said. “I quite enjoy being at your service.”

You hoped he missed the wanton little gasp that barely escaped you. How he always knew exactly what to say to knock you off your feet was beyond you; he was painfully charming behind the heavy armor, and you desperately wished you could see the wry smile you could feel hiding behind his helmet. How you dreamed of it wistfully.

You reached for your wine glass, fingers sliding a bit farther forward than you’d intended, and your fingers grazed the tips of his gloved knuckles. A gasp left you, and you snatched your hand back like you’d been burned. How stupid you were, not being careful after the last time you touched him, and he stiffened with something like fear,  _ repulsion _ , even.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled quickly. “I didn’t mean--”

“My lady,” he cut in, breaking you free from your panicked thoughts. His hand slid closer to yours now, delicately taking your fingers into his grasp. His hands dwarfed yours, so large and firm, hidden behind their soft leather gloves. “You seem to be so skittish around me. I can assure you, there is no need. I took no offense. I didn’t…”

He trailed off slowly, and you could tell from the tilt of his helmet that he was gauging the look in your eyes. It morphed far from fear, far from embarrassment, when you found yourself gently squeezing his hand in yours.

He held you so delicately, so gently that it nearly surprised you. Somehow, in the deep recesses of your mind, you hadn’t thought a man so strong was capable of something so tender.

You almost hadn’t realized he’d trailed off, and your eyes snapped back to the present when he spoke again.

“I didn’t mind the touch.”

His voice was as soft as you’d ever heard it, quiet in the darkened chambers. Your heart began to race in your chest, and goosebumps spread throughout your body when you felt Jango begin to run his thumb over the back of your hand. He did it almost shyly, slow and tender in his movements.

“I can promise you have nothing to fear, princess,” he whispered. “Not when you’re with me.”

The breath you let out was shaky, made your shoulders slump as the tension melted out of you.

“I… I only thought that when I’d touched you before,” you swallowed thickly, suddenly hyper-aware of your own heart beating in your chest. “When I’d given you the flower. I thought I’d made you uncomfortable. I tried not to touch you again, I feared it made you resent me.”

An incredulous little laugh filtered through his helmet. 

“Resent…” He repeated, shaking his head. “Princess, there is nothing you could do to make me resent you.”

You swallowed thickly, clinging now to his fingers for fear he might let go.

You thought you heard a shaky breath come from his helmet.

“When you touched me then, I just… I was… startled.”

You waited for him to press on, sitting in fragile silence with his thumb brushing your wrist.

He sighed heavily, seemingly willing himself to continue. “It was just… much more gentle than I’ve grown used to.”

You laughed breathlessly, the sound escaping you without permission. You felt him tense slightly, moving to pull away, and you clung to him further.

“N-No, Jango, please,” you implored him. His face locked on yours at the sound of his name. “I only thought…” 

“My lady,” he said, voice now tense. “Being so close to a woman like you is enough to make me lose my composure. Surely you must know how beautiful you are, how  _ kind _ …”

He cleared his throat, the sudden confession clearly being more intense than he’d intended. He squeezed your hand lightly once more, and breathed deeply before he dared to speak again.

“You could never belong in a place as bleak as this. You… you bring light everywhere you go.”

Your mouth fell open, goosebumps racing up your spine. No one had ever spoken to you this way, not with such sincerity, and to hear this once-quiet stone of a man sheepishly open up, comparing you to  _ light _ … you nearly couldn’t take it.

You struggled to find the words, tried in vain to force yourself to speak, to reassure him, to say something,  _ anything _ . Instead you were frozen, clinging to his hand and wishing to God that you could look upon his face.

The silence had quickly become too much for him it seemed, and his body language told you as much, dropping your hand from his grasp.

“Forgive me, princess,” he rasped, standing up quickly from the table. “I’ve spoken out of turn. That was… That was inappropriate of me.”

“W-Wait,” you whispered, hand already mourning the loss of his touch.

“I’ll allow you your privacy to turn in for the evening.” He was tense as he stood, and you felt your breath leave you. “Good night, my lady.”

“Jango,” you said, a bit louder than intended. You shot up from your seat, rattling the dishes on the table in the process. “Please. Please don’t leave.”

He sighed heavily, deflating. “My lady…”

You closed the distance between the two of you, standing as close to him as the moment you placed the flower in his armor. You hadn’t dared come as close since then. Not until now.

“Jango,” you said, reaching for his hand. Through the thickness of his leather gloves, you felt him squeeze your fingers. “Stay with me. Please. Don’t leave.”

“Stay with you?” He repeated breathlessly, still rigid, but softening into your touch.

“For the night,” you breathed. “I want… I want you to.  _ Please _ .” 

He wrapped his hand around yours, holding tightly to your palm this time. He seemed more sure that neither of you would go anywhere, not this time.

“Of course,” he said softly. “Of course I’ll stay for you.”


	5. Chapter 5

You let your eyes linger now, watching his body and drinking your fill of him. He moved so fluidly for a man wearing such broad armor, almost gracefully. You noticed the tilt of his helmet, nodding toward you.

“You’re cold,” he noted, and though you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew they were trained on you. He must have seen you shiver, and though it wasn’t from the chill in the air, you wouldn’t dare bring yourself to admit that he was the reason for the goosebumps along your neck.

“Oh,” you mused, looking up at him. “I suppose I am.”

He chuckled lightly, gesturing to the far side of the room.

“Would you like me to start a fire, my lady?”

An idea popped in your head, and in a sudden bout of confidence, you let yourself indulge in it.

“Could you, please?” You asked, smoothing your hands down your skirts. “And if you don’t mind, allow me to get a bit more comfortable while you do?”

He stiffened slightly, and you noticed his hands beginning to fidget at his sides.

“Whatever you wish, my lady.”

You smiled at him gently, nodding at him to continue lighting the fire while you slipped behind the folding screen that partitioned the room. Now out of his view, you worked as quickly as you could to untie your bodice, unhooking your skirts and letting them fall to the floor. You grabbed your night dress from the chair behind you, sliding the silken fabric over your body and down to your ankles. You pulled your robe over your shoulders, tying it loosely around your waist.

You were covered in all the practical aspects, but something about being around Jango in your night clothes sent a thrill through you, even if he couldn’t see any more of your skin than usual.

Slowly, you stepped out from behind the screen, bare feet padding along the cool stone floor.

“Is the fire ready, sir?” You asked softly.

Jango knelt in front of the fireplace, stoking the flames and adjusting the logs inside.

“All set, princess. It should warm up in just a…”

He turned to look at you, and his voice trailed off as he took in the way you looked before him. You clutched your robe loosely at your waist, letting just a bit of the smooth skin of your chest gleam in the firelight. You could see the tension in his shoulders when he stood up, still far across the room, but his body was so large that it demanded his presence be felt.

You shivered again, no longer even thinking of the cold.

“Sir Fett?” You called softly, and his helmet snapped up, and you felt his eyes on yours. “Would… Would you sit with me?”

There was a beat of silence, and your eyes fell down to his hands, flexing tightly at his sides.

“Of course, my lady.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and the smooth baritone of it buried its way inside your chest.

You let out a shaky breath, slowly moving to sit on the edge of the bed. You patted the space beside you, smoothing out the blanket with delicate fingers.

You felt his hesitation before he even spoke.

“My lady, I…”

“Please?” You asked, a little too quickly. “I… I promise it’s alright. Just sit beside me? Just tonight?”

He nodded slowly, the heavy thud of his boots on the stone floor making your heartbeat pick up as he closed the distance between you.

He sat down stiffly on the bed, perching himself on the furthest corner, seemingly not daring to take the chance of touching you again.

“Sir F--,” you cleared your throat. “Jango.”

His head snapped up to you.

“You can… make yourself comfortable.” You tucked your legs up under you, scooting toward the middle of the bed. “I’d like you to be comfortable with me.”

Your hands trembled when you said it, and you stuffed them into your lap quickly.

“Only if that’s what you’d like, princess,” he said, this time with certainty. 

Some of the tension in your body lifted a bit. “It is, sir. I can assure you of that.”

He relaxed somewhat at that, settling a hand down onto the bed.

“Then I will be.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, the deep richness of his voice, the  _ sincerity _ of it striking a chord with you.

“Thank you,” you said earnestly. “It was quite lonely here for me. Your presence here… it… it is a comforting one.”

You could hear a sharp intake of breath behind the helmet.

“Have you been alright?” He asked sincerely. “I know the Count is… That is, I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

You smiled ruefully. “No,” you admitted, shaking your head. “But you’ve made it easier. I wanted to thank you for that.”

“All a part of my duty, my lady.”

You chuckled softly, hiding the flush you felt through your body.

“You know, you needn’t always call me  _ my lady _ ,” you said. “You can call me by my name.”

He shook his head slowly. “Oh, I don’t know if that would be appropriate of me.”

He seemed to be saying it more to himself than you.

You took a deep breath, daring to slide the tips of your fingers over his, feeling the heat of his body through his leather gloves. You craved the feeling of his hand in yours again, the strength of it, the warmth on your skin. You took your lip between your teeth, looking up to his helmet.

“I’d be happy to hear my name in your voice,” you admitted quietly. “I’d be happy to hear you call me anything.”

The tension in the room was thick, and you almost didn’t dare to breathe. 

Slowly, so slowly, he allowed his fingers to wrap around yours. You jumped slightly at the feeling, at the way he tenderly cradled your hand in his again, and he soothed you with a brush of his thumb.

You were so fixated on the touch that you nearly missed the breathy whisper of your name.

“J-Jango?”

He said your name again, deeper this time, surer.

The goosebumps rose along your skin with a vengeance when he took your hand in both of his.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, and you didn’t know if he’d meant your name, or if he’d meant  _ you _ .

You curled your hand into his, and the brushing of his calloused thumb moved from the back of your hand to the delicate skin of the inside of your wrist.

“You’re so soft,” he said, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it aloud.

Your body leaned toward his, close enough that your trembling breaths left the barest bit of fog on the gleaming silver of his helmet.

“ _ Jango _ ,” you said breathlessly, eyes fluttering closed as he continued to rub his thumb over your pulse skittering in your wrist.

“Yes, princess?” He murmured, his free hand coming up to cradle your cheek.

The whimper that left you was so soft, you could almost believe he hadn’t heard it. But as his thumb caressed your cheek, you knew he heard your little gasp, felt the goosebumps ripple down your neck.

“I…” You swallowed thickly, shivering under his touch. “I suppose I must still be cold.”

He laughed lightly, letting his fingers drag gently down your cheek, falling away to cradle your hand once more.

“I can stoke the fire again,” he offered, voice gentle. “You seem to be shivering quite a bit around me, little dove.”

_ Little dove _ .

Your ears were ringing with it as he stood up to stoke the flames once more, warming the room and banishing the chill from the air.

You’d only just heard your name on his lips for the first time and it sounded like music. But  _ little dove _ ? The endearment was more like a symphony. 

You felt your chest clench. A deep need was brewing in you, tugging at your heartstrings, and  _ oh _ , you wanted him. You wanted this man that somehow made you feel like an open book, like a delicate  _ little dove _ in the palms of his strong hands. 

You wanted more, you wanted  _ everything _ , you wanted to be consumed by him like the kindling crackling in the fire.

You couldn’t think anymore, mind fogged with the tenderness he’d shown you, and you wanted to show him just as much in return.

You stood up before you realized you were doing it, taking a deep, shaking breath and letting your robe fall to the floor. Slowly, you crossed the room toward him, one, two,  _ three _ steps until you stood only a foot from where he was livening the flames.

“Jango,” you whispered, standing as tall as you could.

He stood again, logs in the fireplace long forgotten as he turned to face you.

_ You _ .

Standing before him in just your thin chemise, just a scrap of fabric that clung to your body in all the best ways, sheer enough for him to make out the pattern of your skin beneath.

He stood rigid, frozen before you, a whisper of your name leaving his lips.

You sighed breathlessly, a smile on your face. You were exhilarated, and you felt yourself moving closer to him before you could think twice.

“You called me your little dove,” you said, blushing fiercely.

“I… I suppose I did.”

You licked your lips, willing yourself to speak again, but his voice rang in your ears before you could form the words.

“Forgive me, it’s just… you’re so beautiful.  _ Delicate _ . And when I touch you…” His hand found yours again, stroking that soft little spot inside your wrist. “You flitter like a little dove.”

Your breath left your body in a sudden gasping breath. Your head was spinning, and you were so close,  _ stars _ , you were so close to him, you could touch him if you wanted.

And so you did.

Your free hand came up to caress his cheek, cradling it through the polished steel. It was firm, unforgiving, powerful.  _ Strong _ , like him.

“Would you like me to take it off?” He whispered, sounding a bit uncertain.

You blinked up at him in surprise.

“I… I didn’t know you could--”

“I can,” he assured you. “I just… haven’t. Not around many people.” He paused for a moment. “Not since I’ve come here.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, waiting for him to say something else,  _ anything _ else.

He cradled your cheek in return. 

“May I do it for you?” He asked.

“ _ Please, _ ” you begged, breathless. You were desperate, unbelievably desperate to see his face. Up until now, you hadn’t quite let yourself imagine what he’d look like, fearful that somehow he’d read your mind, that your mere thoughts of him would push him away, but  _ now… _

Your body shook with anticipation as he moved his hands to the hinges of his helmet, hooking his fingers beneath it and slowly,  _ so slowly _ , removing it from his head.

You feared your same whimper had spilled from your lips once more, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

He was  _ stunning _ , smooth brown skin and mesmerizing dark eyes, captivating you with long lashes. His full, soft lips--  _ oh, his lips-- _ were framed by rough, dark stubble, matching the thick dark curls that framed his face. 

Your hand came up to cup his jaw, feeling the tickle of the hair on his chin and stroking it gently. Your lips parted as his did, and you stood dumbstruck before him, almost for a moment too long.

“You’re  _ beautiful _ ,” you confessed, now cradling his face in both your hands.

He chuckled softly, a sound you now would fall asleep imagining.

“Beautiful?” He repeated, arching his brow. The smile on his face sent ripples of excitement through you. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard that before.”

“It’s true,” you blurted out quickly. “That is… you  _ are _ . Jango, I…”

Your breath began to come quicker, heart racing.

Gently, he took your wrists into his grasp, bringing each of your hands up to his lips and kissing your knuckles in turn. You felt like the fire in the pit of your stomach might grow to consume you.

“I could say the same about you, little dove,” he murmured, tugging you close enough for your chests to brush against one another. “I could say it every moment of the day.”

You gasped softly, and before you could blink, you felt the softness of his lips on yours.

He was  _ kissing  _ you,  _ really  _ kissing you, taking you in his arms like something delicate, something to be treasured.

You were falling apart under his lips, giving yourself to him completely with every soft brush of his lips on yours.  _ Gods _ , he was strong, holding you against his body and letting himself feel you. He let out a shaky breath against your lips, and you threw your arms around his neck.

He was consuming you, the distant scent of spice and leather and firewood burying itself in your gut, and you clung to him to take all of himself that he would give.

He pulled away slowly, panting to catch his breath as he looked down into your eyes. The smile on his face was one that you would never forget, not as long as you lived.

You smiled back at him, daring to speak again.

“You know, I’m still quite cold, sir,” you grinned. “Perhaps you could stay to keep me warm tonight?”

His fingers trailed down your cheek, tickling the column of your throat and smoothing over your collarbone. He was feeling you, memorizing the sensation of your skin under his fingertips, and the intimacy of it was nearly enough to make you gasp his name once more.

He brought your hand back up in his, pressing delicate kisses to each of your fingertips.

“It would be my pleasure, little dove.”


End file.
